Voldie Went Down To Georgia
by Alarun
Summary: This is a songfic based on the Charlie Daniels Band song "The Devil Went Down To Georgia." Snape is sent on a mission to retrieve lemon drops ...


The Devil Went Down To Georgia 

Song by The Charlie Daniels Band

Songfic by Alarun

Author's Note:  This is what happens when I eat too many fried eggs on peanut butter toast with ketchup and green olives and jelly beans.  Best food ever!

This isn't meant to have any real common sense to it.  I heard The Charlie Daniels Band's _The Devil Went Down To Georgia_ (Actually, I have the cd) and just automatically thought of Voldemort as being the devil.  Kind of an obvious one, there.  I thought that Harry Potter could actually be Johnny, but then it occurred to me that Harry's way to innocent and not so …what's the word?…confident.  So then I thought of Snape, and it worked.

Warning:  This is really stupid …

[The devil went down to Georgia; he was looking for a soul to steal.  He was in a bind, 'cause he was way behind, he was willing to make a deal.]

Voldemort sat down under a grassy tree, munching on a crunchy red and green apple.  He wondered what he was going to do; he was desperately in need of a human soul for a potion he was having made.  The Dark Lord adjusted the straps on his overalls, wondering why Lucius Malfoy had practically insisted that he wear Muggle clothing for his trip to America.  Like the malevolent red eyes and flaky white skin weren't obviously otherworldly.

He finished his apple and leaned back against the tree, reclined with his arms behind his head, humming...

****

The Potions Master was in Georgia on an official business trip for Albus Dumbledore.  Europe had completely run out of lemon drops, the only remaining factory that produced the little sour candies having gone out of business only four business days before.  The greasy-haired double agent was given direct orders to apparate to a predetermined location in the United States, acquire as many lemon drops (or similar candy substitutes) as he could possibly manage with the two galleons he had in his pocket, and return immediately to Hogwarts.

He sighed.  The Country Store of this place had thousands of lemon drops, but the price was exceedingly higher than expected.  Two galleons hadn't been enough for a tin.

Mission failed.  Severus Snape had resorted to gloomily wandering the apple orchards, attempted procrastination.  He would rather face the wrath of the Dark Lord than Albus Dumbledore without his lemon drops.

He transfigured his left sock into a violin, and his right sock into a bow, and began playing a sad tune while walking slowly around the loosely spaced trees.

Severus Snape felt his knees lock as he caught sight of Voldemort sitting under an apple tree, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, a piece of grass dangling from the corner of his lipless mouth.  

****

Voldemort looked up, startled to see a person standing there, staring at him, violin forgotten in his hand.  He was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, baggy overalls, no shoes, and no shirt.  He had greasy black hair that was tied back in a ponytail and seemed to contain bits and pieces of hay, as if he had recently slept in a hayloft.

The perfect soul!

[Well he came across this young man sawing on a fiddle and playing it hot, and the devil jumped up on a hickory stump and said, "Boy, let me tell you what.

_"I guess you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too, and if you care to take a dare I'll make a bet with you_

_"Now, you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but give the devil his due.  I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul cause I think I'm better than you!"]_

Snape jumped about three feet into the air as Voldemort began speaking as if he were reading a script, The Dark Lord obviously not recognizing one of his own Death Eaters.  He decided to play along, not feeling in the mood to grovel.

_[The boy said, "My name's Johnny, and it might be a sin, but I'll take your bet you're gonna regret, 'cause I'm the best there's ever been!"_

_Johnny rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard, 'cause Hell's broke loose in Georgia and the devil's dues are hard.  And if you win you get this shiny fiddle made of gold, but if you lose the devil gets your soul…!]_

"Err, my name's …Uh ...Johnny.  And …it _might_ be a sin …"

_[Well, the devil opened up his case and said "I'll start this show," and fire flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow.  And he pulled his bow across the strings and it made an evil hiss, and a band of demons joined in and it sounded something like this:_

_(Insert demon-like screeching of fiddle.)]_

Snape fell to the ground, pressing his hands over his ears.  He wasn't sure when Voldemort and his Traveling Death Eater Cronies Band had ceased their noise, because it was still reverberating through his head.

_[When the devil finished, Johnny said, "Well, you're pretty good, ol' son, but sit down in that chair right there and let me show ya how it's done!"_

_(Insert better fiddle playing for the better part of 30 seconds.)]_

Voldemort sat, dumbstruck, as somebody who actually knew how to play the fiddle proceeded to metaphorically slam him into the ground, repeatedly.  

The Dark Lord knew the _honorable_ thing for an evil lord to do would be to tell Johnny that he sucked and take his soul anyway, but the Muggle part of Voldemort ---Tom Riddle ---kept insisting that he should let this kid live.  Heck, maybe he would accept a job as minstrel when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named became The-King-Of-The-World-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named …

And he could just pick up a leftover soul from a nearby high school.

_[The devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat, and he laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet._

_And Johnny said, "Devil, just come on back if ya ever wanna try again, but until you win, you son of a bitch, I'm the best there's ever been!"]_

Snape picked up the gold fiddle.  It certainly wasn't for use as a fiddle ---the fact that it was solid gold made it quite heavy, and Severus Snape didn't find it worth the effort to hold up such a great weight only to play music.  

He backtracked to the Country Store, where he traded the golden fiddle for as many lemon drops as he could carry.  

_Mission Accomplished!_

The End.  

Okay, don't say I didn't warn ya …


End file.
